PS 

3 5 23 

I.E.29S& 
1905 





Songs from the 
Silent Land 

LOUIS VERNON LEDOUX 




Class _JE3-^m_ 
Book . F a 3 S fe _ 



GqpigM* 



nos 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SONGS FROM THE SILENT LAND 



SONGS FROM THE 
SILENT LAND 



By 
LOUIS VERNON LEDOUX 



Brentanos 

NEW YORK 
MCMV 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 


Two Copies 


liectMvtstS 


MAR 


iyuD 


Opyngnt tntw 
CX. XXc. Noi 

//>t / 8 / 

COPY B. 



"PS?>5a3 

.EjL^l 

^05 



Copyright, 1905, by 
LOUIS VERNON LEDOUX 




Arranged and Printed at 

The Cheltenham Press 

New York 



TO MY FATHER 



Contents 



PAGE 



Poems of Life: 

Night in the Silent Land 11 

The Garden of Youth 12 

Boyhood 17 

Youth 18 

" O Norns, Is the Heart of a Boy God's 

Lie?" 19 

Sunshine and Shadow 22 

Inasmuch 23 

The Cathedral 30 

Life in the Silent Land 31 

Freedom 33 

" Follow the Gleam " . . . . . .36 

Poems of Love: 

Song of Dawn 39 

Love-Song 40 

"Das Du Mich Liebst, Macht Mich Mir 

Werth" 42 

" Du Hebst Mich Liebend iiber Mich " . 43 

Love's Prophecy 44 

Lines Sent with a Sun-Dial .... 46 

" Mein Herz Gleicht Ganz dem Meere " . 47 
Dedication for a Love Poem . . . .48 

Love's Maytime 50 

Poems of Nature: 

Fringed Gentian .53 

The Pine 54 



Contents 

PAGE 

A Landscape 55 

Resurrection 56 

To the Hudson 57 

Wild Rose 58 

A Memory 59 

Vesper 60 

Before Sunrise in the Mountains ... 61 

Whip-poor-will 62 

Poems of Thought: 

Faith 65 

Revival 66 

The Call to Urania 67 

De Profundis clamavi ad Te, Domine . 68 

God's Lighthouse 71 

The Temple of the Soul 72 

Omnipresence 80 

"Une Croix! Et l'Oubli, la Nuit et le 

Silence!" 81 

Swan Songs 82 

The Return to the Silent Land ... 84 

Dedication 87 



POEMS OF LIFE 



Night in the Silent Land 



" The silence sank 
Like music on my heart." 

ALONE with God and thee; a moonless night 
And silver silent stars ; 
Alone with thee and God ; a gleam of white 
Ere waking day unbars 
Her dusky Eastern lattice ; clear on high 
A sapphire planet gems the purple sky. 

Alone, alone with thee; a world asleep; 

A rhapsody of peace; 
A soundless solitude of calm; a deep 

Oblivion where cease 
All transient things, and buried meanings come 
In cosmic undertones through daylight dumb. 

Alone with God and thee while Church and State, 

And social aims, and strife, 
And usual cares grow dim; with soul elate 

I pass from seeming life 
To life indeed ; and softly — sweet and clear, 
A thrush, half -dreaming, murmurs " Dawn is near." 

While day's exhausted clamor gently sleeps, 

With watching worlds above, 
Unfathomed beauty here her vigil keeps: — 

Alone with God and love, 
Ere gradual dawn tumultuous day disclose, 
We face immortal calm, serene repose. 

Eagle Rock. 

11 



The Garden of Youth 

To S. P. L. 



I HAD a garden where for sunless days 
And many starless nights, the dusky ways 
Were weed-o'ergrown and silent. There I heard 
No voice of love low calling to its own, 
And found nor joy nor beauty; but alone 
I lived, till through the silence like a bird 
Full-throated, came the music of a friend. 



II 

All others ever paused without the gate 
Of that lone garden of my heart, for Fate 
Had willed that none might ever enter there 
Till he should come. And once, in singing May, 
When all the world was lyric, and the day 
Grew faint with beauty till it could not bear 
The burning rapture of the sun, he came. 

Ill 

He brought the glory of his love's clear light, 
And all the place grew beautiful and bright, 
And all the paths were filled with fragrance. Soon 
He learned to know the dim, moss-covered ways; 
The grassy twilight aisles wherein the day's 
Most perfect beauty and the wealth of June 
Had never burned, till he had brought them there. 
12 



The Garden of Youth 



IV 



He saw the somber flowers where they grew 
In dusky places, washed by nightly dew, 
And odorless from lack of light and love. 
Yet some seemed even beautiful to him; 
And some he gathered there ; his eyes all dim 
With tears of gladness that the God above 
Had granted him this garden for his charge. 



Beneath his love the flowers grew more fair, 
And some of brighter hue he planted there; 
While roses through the weeds began to climb. 
The place no more was lonely, for he knew 
Each winding pathway — how each blossom grew; 
And long ere yet a second summer time 
Had turned the world to gladness, we were one. 



VI 



One were we then in heart and thought, for all 
My soul leapt joyful at his faintest call; 
And all my lif e was as an open book 
To him. He understood me, felt each hope 
And joy and fear and doubt, and all the scope 
Of all my life, whereon but he could look 
With perfect comprehension, through his love. 

13 



The Garden of Youth 



VII 



We were alike, we two, in those glad days; 

One common purpose thrilled through all our ways 

And bound us in that bond of unity 

Which those alone can know whose souls are knit 

By mutual aspiration, and are lit 

By one absorbing dream of things to be; 

One hope, one goal to seek through all the world. 



VIII 

Another came — a woman — and in her 

He found the incarnation of his dream; 

From her deep eyes he caught the lucent gleam 

Of life's eternal beauty; and in her 

He saw the vision he had ever sought, 

And found it fairer than his fairest thought; 

And joyed in this glad triumph of his quest. 



IX 



His music spoke no more of far-off things 
But half perceived, in fleeting ecstasies, 
Intangible as is the summer's breeze 
Which bears some message on its fragrant wings, 
But still is viewless, passing like the ghost 
Of beauty, vaguely felt, and fading most 
When most we long to seize it for our own : 

14 



The Garden of Youth 



X 



But now it breathed a song instinct with life 

And throbbing, for his love's strong passion thrilled 

Through every vacant note, and surging filled 

The songs of dead musicians — passion rife — ■ 

With resurrected meaning. Now he saw 

That not alone in some far mystic law 

Was beauty found, but here, throughout the world. 



XI 



As some sweet violin which silent lies 

With no warm hand to wake it, trembling knows 

Another's voice, and as the music flows, 

Awakes, while from its vibrant strings there flies 

An answering melody : so she awoke 

And violin to violin they spoke 

The thoughts which lie too deep for words to frame. 



XII 

And I ? — I shall be still his friend 

And hers for him, and though my grief must be 

Most bitter, that another is to thee, 

My friend, more near than I; that now an end 

Is come to that glad time when we could share 

Our joys, our sadness and each secret care, 

I shall be happy in thy happiness. 

15 



The Garden of Youth 



XIII 

The garden of my heart will still be fair, 
And bright the flowers thou hast planted there; 
And full of fragrant memories, all the ways 
That thou didst learn to tread, for well I know 
That thou wilt come again, and whisper low 
Thy love for that lone place : and all our days 
Thy friendship shall not pass, but still endure. 

" Belvoir." 



16 



Boyhood 



I ST AND on the brink of a stormless sea, 
With hope's young eyes in wonder wide, 
And watch the sun-swept ripples glide 
Toward dreaming shores of eternity. 

The ocean is kind, for the wavelets play 
With smile and shimmer about my feet, 
And scatter benediction sweet 

In drops of silent falling spray. 

The wind is still; the deep is calm; 

My soul looks down through the visioned years 
And finds no presage of grief or tears, 

For the sea will cradle my bark from harm. 

Skyrie" 



17 



I 



Youth 



SING the joy of the wind-swept woods, 
The joy of the love-lit sky, 
The joy of the solemn solitudes 
Where the stars burn clear on high : 



For life is a joyous song of love, 

Of beauty and delight, 
And human souls in cadence move 

With the rhythmic hymn of night. 

I sing with the winds, the stars, and sun, 
As the world rolls on its way, 

A song of cosmic joy, begun 
At the birth of night and day: 

For life is a perfect symphony 
With God and His world in tune, 

And I feel the vibrant harmony 
Of the pulsing days of June. 



Skyr 



18 



"O Norns, Is the Heart of a 
Boy God's Lie?" 

ALONE with Nature on a joyous day, 
We wandered through the forest, loving all 
The wondrous beauty of the youthful May, 
And gloried in the Spring. We heard the call 
Of birds that sang their rippling notes of love, 
Full-throated, chanting praise to God above. 

We saw the orchids — yellow, red and white, 
Agleam 'mid purple shade of dusky pines; 

And ferns that sway in woven forest light, 
Cradled in vales where languorous day reclines ; 

While 'gainst the gray of lichened cliffs on high, 

The laurel glowed like clouds in dawn's dim sky. 

The sense of beauty thrilled us, till we saw 

Naught but effulgent, rapturous beauty; heard 

And felt but beauty only. All the law 

Of life was summed in beauty. Like a bird 

The world sang peeans rich with pure delight, 

And gave no presage of the coming night. 



We felt that life had found itself divine. 

The ecstasy of Nature filled our hearts 
With voiceless adoration; till supine 

The twilight shadows lengthened, and the darts 
Of darkness rustled through the drowsy trees, 
And spirit voices stole along the breeze. 

19 



" O Norm, Is the Heart of a Boy God's Lie? " 

Then suddenly our thought was framed in speech, 
And all the hopes and all the dreams of youth 

Were voiced in low yet fervent words; for each 
Was starting on the long life-search for truth, 

And each had seen a vision of the way, 

And each was young as eager-hearted May. 

We spoke of beauty — how it wrapped us round; 

And how the world was fair, and life was sweet; 
How God was love ; and every softest sound 

A note in Nature's harmony complete. 
And then a jocund bird began to sing, 
That all of life was one transcendent Spring. 

But sadly down the wind a whisper stole, 

And woke remembrance of the warning cry 

Of those who knew this Springtime of the soul, 
Yet saw it slowly wane, and pale, and die. 

They trusted beauty through their pulsing youth, 

But found a phantom wailing, " What is truth? " 

I cried: " They say this glory all must fade, 
For life will seize us with relentless hand; 

That all our sunlight soon will turn to shade; 
That all the realm of beauty is a land 

Of dreams and visions doomed to pass away, 

And not God's prophecy of endless day." 

But through the twilight came her answer clear: 
" It cannot be that this is all a dream ! 

It is too wonderful, and God is near 

Us now. Yet if it prove a transient gleam 
20 



O Norns, Is the Heart of a Boy God's Lie? 



Before the dark, and hope is all a lie, 

I pray that, dreaming ever, we may die! " 

So, musing, passed we through the forest dim, 
While evening spread the mantle of the dew; 

And saw, far up the East, a lustrous rim 
Of gold upon a mountain top, and knew 

A beauty purer far than sunlit May, 

And cried: " The night may fairer prove than day! 



21 



Sunshine and Shadow 



ONE of life's chapters ended, 
Mingled of joy and pain, 
Of summer sunlight blended 
With wintry storm and rain: 

Opened with all the gladness 
Of a cloudless day in Spring, 

Closing with all the sadness 
That a dying hope can bring. 

Life, like this chapter ended, 
Is mingled of joy and pain; 

With all our hopes is blended 
The knowledge that never again 

Shall we find the perfect gladness 
Of youth's unclouded Spring, 

But ever a tone of sadness 
Must color the songs we sing. 



Skyrie." 



22 



Inasmuch 

The Violin of St. Anne de Beaupre. 

Quebec. 

PART I 

ALONG the lazy windings of a road 
Walked slowly toward the shrine of kind 
Saint Anne, 
A man who went his way deep lost in dreams. 
His thoughtful face in every lineament 
Showed markings of the mystic characters 
Which rank and education ever grave 
In deepening lines of subtlest tracery. 
He passed beneath the opal-tinted sky, 
Among the shadows of the summer clouds, 
Nor seemed to heed the singing of the birds, 
Nor see the lavish beauty of the morn; 
But ever dreaming, thought of other days, 
Regretting all the fleeting, vanished years 
Of bright enchantments — glowing images — 
When the fair springtime of his lif e was glad 
As silver-throated singing of a lark. 
He carried in his hand a violin 

Which sometimes he would touch with fond caress, 
As though it were his child, and knew his love. 
Once in his dream he softly spoke to it 
With voice as low and musically sweet 
As is a mother's near her sleeping babe. 
" I love thee, comrade of those bygone days 
When life was fresh as blossoms of the May, 
And trouble, care and pain were all unknown: 
For when pale sorrow cast her heavy pall 
Slow falling o'er my life of happiness, 
And all that marked earth's mastery had gone, 

23 



Inasmuch 



Then thou didst cross with me the moaning sea — 

Companion of my hours of bitterness — 

And answer to the homeless, whispering wind, 

And comprehend those wild, far-wailing voices, 

Which wander pathless from the twilight depths, 

To sob across the shimmering starlit waves. 

And sometimes when the voice of speechless things 

Breathes through the listening stillness of the soul 

Longings which cannot find expressive words 

In human speech, doth thy pure music wake 

My sleeping spirit to a finer sense, 

That I may apprehend the primal thoughts 

Which vibrate through the clamor of our lives. 

Oh thou art more than comrade, lover, friend, 

Thou canst interpret every vagrant mood; 

And sing throughout the day or lingering night, 

Remembered songs of home and happiness." 



The dream was ended, for he saw alone 

Beside a sudden turning of the way 

A crippled child, unkempt, and thin, and wan. 

The man stood gazing at his sad young face, 

And saw that speechless yearning of the eyes 

Which tells of sleepless nights, and days of pain, 

And sorrows of the prematurely old. 

His heart was touched; and to the child he said: 

" Why dost thou wait in hopeless weariness, 

Nor ever seek the aid of kind Saint Anne? 

This is the Sabbath morning, and to-day 

The priest will pass the holy relic through 

The kneeling throng, that those who, praying there, 

With souls upraised in ecstasy of faith, 

24 



Inasmuch 



May feel their health and life come flooding back, 
Like showers on a waste of burning sand." 
To him the child, slow speaking, sadly said: — 
" The custom is that those who may be healed 
Shall bring rich gifts to prove their gratitude; 
But I am quite alone and dare not go ; 
For after I were cured of all my pain 
I could bring nothing to the kindly saint." 
The man looked down upon the lonely child, 
And spoke impulsively in sudden love:— 
" Come, I will take thee to the holy place, 
And stand by thee while thou dost tell the priest 
Thy need, and pray beside thee to the Saint; 
And if our prayer is heard, and healing comes, 
Then I will lay a gift upon the shrine 
In gratitude for thy frail life, new won, 
That thou mayst grow to fullest manly strength, 
And not pass down the shivering way of death, 
Unknowing all the gladness of the world." 
The child sat listening, wrapped in wonderment; 
And then within the sad, expressive eyes, 
There shone a light of startled new-born hope: 
As though his soul had burst its prison walls, 
And leapt courageous into richer life. 



PART II 

The throng passed slowly down the long dim aisle, 
And spoke in tones subdued, fulfill'd with awe 
Of sensing that the power of God had passed 
Among them as they knelt in ecstasy. 
A few there were whose flickering faith had failed; 

25 



Inasmuch 



And these stole sadly past the sacred door, 

From solemn twilight of the holy place, 

To fervid glory of the summer sun, 

Their faces gray with darkness of despair. 

But gladly sprang the child from out the church ; 

The yearning look of sadness all was gone, 

As though an angel's finger had erased 

The lines of sorrow, and had written there 

The joyful tidings of a fairer life. 

At length the priest stepped slowly down the nave 

With eyes still haunted by the passing presence, 

And saw the child, and gravely said to him : 

" Wilt thou not bring a gift to good St. Anne? " 

For him his friend made answer questioning: — 

" What is it we should give to show our thanks? " 

The priest in kindly tones responding, said, 

" The Saint gives value to the gifts we bring 

Not from their own inherent worth; for she 

Will never need the riches of the world, 

Nor wish the things which, being kept or given, 

Can make no difference in the giver's life : 

She asks from each a sacrificial act 

To prove his love, and so the custom is 

To give of all our worldly goods the thing 

We value most, and loving, hold most dear." 



A silence fell upon the little group ; 
And, as the gentle father turned to go, 
With aged lips breathing his benison 
Upon the child, who still was wondering 
At all the unguessed sweetness of the world; 

26 



Inasmuch 



The other stood with anguish in his eyes, 

For through his mind had flashed a sudden thought 

Which burned its pathway to his troubled soul. 

" O God! " he cried in terror, " no, not that! " 

Then to the startled priest he stammering said: 

" To-night will I bring something to the shrine — " 

And stumbling, almost falling, fled away, 

Nor heard the plaintive calling of the child. 

He passed among the peaceful peasant folk 

Unheeding; till at last he strayed alone 

To where the vast dim river stretches down 

To seek the frozen North, there paused, and strove 

To win the battle of self-mastery. 

Along the forest lonely winds came sobbing 

Like deathless spirits on the shores of sleep, 

And wailed their own wild song of endless sadness, 

Commingling with the discords of his soul. 

Into his life the gathering shadows crept, 

And twined their ghostly tendrils 'round his heart ; 

He felt the breath of darkness on his face, 

And woke as from a transient dream of pain 

To keener suffering of reality: — 

« O Christ! Why dost Thou ask of me this thing, 

This only thing I cannot yield to Thee? 

Thou hast had all which made my life seem sweet 

But this one thing, and I did never search 

Thy hidden purpose or distrust Thy love; 

But bore the frequent sorrows Thou didst send 

With trustful faith, for still Thy world seemed bright 

Through this one thing which spoke to me of Thee, 

And cheered my days of utter loneliness, 

And gave me courage to live out the life 

27 



Inasmuch 



That Thou didst give; And now must I lose this? 

Father, I would gladly die for Thee; 
But do not ask that I should live alone; 

1 cannot, will not give my violin! " 
Impulsively he seized his instrument, 

And drew the bow across the waiting strings, 

And waked the warm vibrations of its voice: 

The music made his sufferings still more deep. 

He paused, and in the pause he cried aloud: 

" It is not just that I should have to give 

This thing I loved through all the mournful years. 

My life has been a wreck of shattered hopes, 

Would God complete with this my misery? 

The child was naught to me, I only thought 

To do a deed of love, in thankfulness 

For that sad solace of my solitude — 

That only relic of my happiness 

Which has been left to me — my violin ; 

And now, in strange requital of my act 

Could God demand a bitter sacrifice 

Which is so needless, bringing only pain? 

This giving of some well beloved thing 

Is custom merely, not a changeless law 

Of His own making: He does not exact 

This deed from me in payment for His love ; 

The gift is voluntary, merely proof 

Of gratitude that He has heard our prayer: 

Ah no, I cannot, need not give it up." 

Again he drew his bow across the strings ; 

The sobbing music, doubtful, tremulous, 

In cadence faded through the forest dim, 

And mingled with the silver moonlight, yearning 

28 



Inasmuch 






To know its passionless calm purity. 

The stars moved slowly on their tranquil way, 

And one of them fell sadly from its place 

Alone and dying, toward the dusky earth, 

While still he played in lonely misery. 

At last a subtle change came in the song : 

The wailing voices ceased and fled away 

Like weary wraiths before the flushing dawn; 

And as they passed a stronger spirit spoke 

Among the mournful minor melodies. 

The sound of sadness had not yet quite left 

The song, but sank subdued, while clear and calm 

The music rose in firmness masterful 

Of high resolve and hard won victory. 



PART III 

Slowly and sadly through the empty nave 
The pale musician stole. His cheeks were wan, 
And on his face the marks of recent tears. 
He came to where the tapers burned, and knelt; 
Still kneeling, took the instrument he loved, 
And laid it gently on the altar steps — 
Then turned to go, but moving back again, 
He touched it softly, sobbing like a child; 
Then strode with firmness from the silent church 
Into the silence of the night beyond. 
And as he went, the moon broke through a cloud, 
And showed the sudden glory of his face. 

"Ardmore." 



29 



The Cathedral 



FULL of a sense of failure, sad, depressed 
With struggle toward a goal which ever flew 
Before me like a phantom light, and grew 
More distant as I followed on the quest ; 
I passed along a crowded avenue, 
And there I met a friend, who quickly guessed 
My sadness ; and my thought but half expressed 
Was answered quickly; for the mood he knew. 

He took me where a great cathedral stands 
With towers pointing toward the tranquil sky, 
And led me then within a quiet shrine, 
Where wearily I raised imploring hands 
In silent prayer; till came a clear reply 
Flooding my soul with strength and calm divine. 

" Skyrie." 



so 



Life in The Silent Land 



ALONE and alone in my world of dreams, 
With many around me and no one near, 
Seeking for comradeship oft I came 
To books, the friends that my soul held dear. 

Shelley has told me, here in this room, 
Of all the visions his youth found fair, 

Of all the gloom of his manhood's prime 

When his hopes, like phantoms, dissolved in air. 

And I love the beautiful Sensitive Plant, 
For have I not heard it o'er and o'er 

Whisper its confidence low and sad, 
Till heedless of all the clamor and roar 



Of the living death in the outer world, 
My spirit has roamed to the Silent Land 

With Shelley for guide, and Plato's word 
Helping me see and understand. 

I have lived so long in that mystic sphere 

Where dreams are real and the Spring shall last, 

That the world of sense is far and dim, 
And material things are fading fast. 

Often I long to speak of the place 

Where the flowers are flowers and something more ; 
Where the soul is cradled in lustral light 

Of the beauty that I, with my life adore. 

31 



Life in the Silent Land 



I fain would tell of my visions and dreams ; 

Would voice my love of the Silent Land; 
And I give of my life with a craving deep 

To many who never can understand. 

But the light that hallows the life I live 

Has been seen by one who has found the way 

To the far-off place where my spirit dwells, 
And he will harken to all I say. 

No longer alone in my world of dreams, 
I can tell my love of the Silent Land ; 

And voice the life that I lived apart 
To him, for I know he will understand. 



Skyr 



Freedom 



FREE! Ah God I am free, 
From the shadowed bondage of years, 
From the deepening mist of tears 
I am free, Ah God! I am free. 

Free to follow my star, 

The star of my life's sole aim, 
Which shines with so clear a name, 

In the boundless sky afar. 



II 



For years on a funeral pyre 

I burned my dreams and my hope, 
And never had I full scope 

For the life of my soul's desire. 

But ever through shrouding night 

Above, on high and afar, 

In glory glowed that star 
With a fair transcendent light. 

I tried to forget its glory: 
Thou knowest it could not be. 



Ill 

I tried to forget my life's ideal, 

And blind myself to the things I love; 



Freedom 



But that flaming star still burned above, 
And while it burns I must ever feel 
The wondrous thoughts that its beams reveah 

Dear God thou knowest the darkening years 
When I tried to walk in the loveless way 
Where I deemed I saw that my duty lay; 
Thou knowest my life, and the haunting fears, 
And all the doubts of those lingering years. 

All God, I feel them rising now! 



IV 

Shall I have many years to follow on 

And follow gladly all my dream's behest? 

And shall I reach the glory that has shone 

Around me? Shall I then achieve the quest? 

Or must my life be as the shimmering dew 
Which mirrors beauty dimly in the dawn, 
Yet passes ere it can reflect the true 
Perfection of the day, unwept, forlorn? 



Is this my dream a phantom Northern light? 

A mere mirage of manhood's flushing dawn? 

Or shall the purple-shadowed lustrous morn 
Transfigured gather all the day's delight? 

34 



Freedom 



Ah God thou knowest that the dream is fair, 
That I would follow toward the starry goal; 
And yet these clinging doubts assail my soul — 

And God, my God, I fail! hear Thou my prayer. 



VI 

The silent long arcades of coming years 

Stretch ghost-like toward the dusk of things to be, 
But flaming through the twilight still appears 

My star, I rise, I follow, I am free! 



VII 

And now that the dark and the doubt are fled, 
And now that the joyless days are dead, 
And now that duty is love's own way, 
And night is glad as the dawn of day, 

I shall follow my star with heart intent, 
And every pulse of my being bent 
On the one ideal of my longing soul 
Till I come, Ah God! to the far-off goal. 

New York. 



35 



"Follow the Gleam" 

A RAD I ANT vision flashed upon my view, 
A gleam of beauty on the hills of thought, 
And I have followed while the glory flew 
From peak to peak. Yet vainly have I sought 
To scale the heights and clasp the living fire 
Which like a beacon in a storm-swept night 
Impels me toward the goal of strong desire, 
While hope transfigured glows within its light. 

With trebled courage onward still I climb 

'Mid snow and ice, o'er cliff and lone ravine, 

While brighter flames the lustre through the dark, 

But yet afar — how far! — and many a time 
I fall, but still I strive, for still serene 

The beacon burns, and in my soul a spark. 

" Skyrie." 



36 



POEMS OF LOVE 



Song of Dawn 

OUT of the depths of sunrise come! 
Ye thoughts of infinite love. 
The stars of dawn are wan and dumb, 
And far in the height above 
The moon is pale from her long delight 
In the kiss of her unseen lord, the night. 

Bright in the East the dawning climbs; 

And lo! the sun draws near; 
High on a bough the robin chimes 

His happy matins clear. 
From the bird's blithe song to the skies above 
The whole glad world is aflood with love. 

The hymn of the world finds an echo low, 

An echo faint and far, 
In my heart whose pulse with love beats slow, 

Dreaming of her — my Star 
Who sleeps, not knowing I wake to sing 
The infinite thoughts that dawn must bring. 



1 Shyrie- 



Love-Song 



LIFE is a song of love 
When thou art near; 
A low, sweet song of love, 
Serene and clear, 
When thou art near. 



II 

But when thou art afar 
The world grows drear; 

And life's one holy star 
By clouds of fear, 
Is darkened here. 



Ill 

If thou couldst love me so 

As I love thee; 
And whisper soft and low 

Thy love for me, 

As I to thee ; 



IV 

Then would we never part 

On earth below, 
But ever one in heart 

We two would go, 

United so. 

40 



Love-Song 



And if death's summons came 

To call us far, 
Our love would be the same 

Across the bar, 

Where seraphs are. 

VI 

For God would surely see 

Our lif e above 
Could never perfect be, 

Unless our love 

Were there above. 



Skyrie." 



41 



"Dass Du Mich Liebst, 

Macht Mich Mir 

Werth" 



A QUEST of dim and changing goals was life, 
Monotonous with struggle and retreat; 
With shifting purposes and aimless strife, — 
Full of the sadness of a slow defeat. 
But now the mocking world has changed for me, 
Because of one sweet word that thou hast said; 
That all my life is but my love for thee, 

And effort toward a constant goal is sped. 
For now I know that thou dost love me, dear, 

The baffling conflict is no longer hard; 
I ever feel thy watching spirit near, 

My purpose with thy changeless love to guard. 
Thy love has saved me from myself, that thought, 
Past doubt, to calm accomplishment is wrought. 

" Skyrie." 



"Du Hebst Mich Liebend 
iiber Mich" 



SINCE this is true; that thou dost love me, dear; 
That thou wilt stoop my life to sanctify ; 
That thou wilt raise me now ere youth shall die, 
Above my twilight shadows, deep and drear, 
That I may reach the purer region high 
Where thou dost dwell, and ever still be near 
Thy side, and ever hear thy singing, clear 
And sweet as song of seraph in the sky: 

My love will teach me all that thou hast known 
Of God and life, that I may catch through thee 
Prophetic glimpses of His truth and grace; 
And watch in thee His semblance, clearly shown, 
Till in the sunlight of eternity, 
I come, at last to meet Him face to face. 

" Skyrie." 



43 



Love's Prophecy 

IF one of us should leave this world of dreams 
And pass beyond the portals of the West, 
And one should still be left to mourn our love, 
The vacant world would grow disconsolate, 
And all the glory of life's flowers would fade. 
It could not be if one of us were dead 
And dwelling calm in heaven in deathless life, 
Happy, but thinking oft of other days, 
And watching as the loved one moved alone ; 
And one were still on earth in living death, 
Loving the memories of bygone years, 
Listening for echoes of the long-loved voice; 
That no surprisal from the other world 
Would flash from soul to soul across the gulf. 
Surely the one in heaven would know the thoughts 
Which rose like incense from the yearning earth; 
For even life on high with God would be 
In purer harmony with His own self, 
If those above could feel the happiness 
Coming from consciousness of human love, 
Which keeps their memories green and fresh on earth. 
Surely the one below would sometime feel 
A sudden rending of the veil of sense, 
A sudden lifting of the mists of doubt; 
And then the vision of immortal love 
Would gleam with aureate gladness from on high, 
Flooding the soul with pure, eternal light. 
A consciousness would sometime surely come 
That one still loved, though long since passed from 

earth, 
Was thinking, dreaming yet of days of yore — 
Was watching from the sky's star-trellised bowers, 

44 



Loves Prophecy 



The face he would, yet would not see grow old. 

What friending sweetness to the lonely heart 

To know that when life's clamor fades away, 

One shall be found within the other world 

Who waits unsatisfied 'mid seraph choirs, 

In vivid memory of earthly love! 

And when the loved one, loving still, shall pass 

Beyond the glory of the sunset sky; 

Our souls united there shall cherish still 

Their deathless love transformed, changed, sublimed, 

That it may live in heaven as erst on earth. 

We shall be glad through all eternity, 

And wander hand in hand with hearts at rest, 

In meadows lit with clear celestial light; 

And tell the story of our human love, 

And smile in pity for our human tears; 

Knowing the sorrow of the sadder days 

Was but the prelude of the joy to come. 



'Skyrie. 



4,5 



Lines Sent with a Sun-Dial 



MAY all the hours of all the years to be, 
Through sun and shadow turn thy thoughts 
to me 
Whose guarding friendship watches over thee, 
As mountains watch thy garden silently. 

" Skyrie." 



46 



"Mein Herz Gleicht Ganz 

dem Meere, hat Sturm 

und Ebb und Fluth" 



MY soul is a sleepless tide 
With surge and ebb and flow, 
When thy love-thoughts shimmering glide, 
Through the waves where the moon-beams glow. 



II 



But far in the depths of my life 
Are fathomless caves of the sea, 

Where the waves of the world ? s wild strife 
Are calmed, O Love, by thee. 

New York. 



47 



Dedication for a Love Poem 



I HEARD a song in my heart — 
A silent song, 
In cadence strong 
Singing with natural art 
Of love for thee, 
My love, Amie. 



And near thee bending low 
I would repeat 
In accents sweet 

And measured music slow, 
My song to thee 
Of love, Amie. 



I love thee not as men 

Are wont to love : 
For far above 

My spirit's noblest ken 

Art thou, Amie: — 
Yet love I thee. 



Incarnate pureness ! Dream 

And hope come true! 

The silver dew, 
On azure flowers agleam, 

Has not, Amie, 

Thy purity. 

48 



Dedication for a Love Poem 



Vainly I seek to sing 

That song replete 
With music meet; 

And yet I fain would bring 

These thoughts to thee, 
Of love, Amie. 



1 Skyrie.' : 



49 



Love's May time 



E two shall see the Maytime still, 

In days with Autumn rife; 
When wintry winds blow bleak and chill, 
And we near the bourne of life : 



w 



For Love is ever young and kind; 

And Love will with us stay, 
Till we in life's December find 

The flowers and birds of May. 

Skyrie." 



50 



POEMS OF NATURE 






Fringed Gentian 

PURE and sweet in thine azure sleep 
With folded petals lie, 
In childlike confidence, calm and deep, 
Hearing the lullaby 
Of autumn night-wind sadly singing, 

Through branches of oak and pine, 
Tenderly, softly, onward bringing 

The news of the year's decline. 

When slumber songs with night shall cease, 

And day comes glad and clear, 
Ever in childlike trust and peace, 

Knowing nor doubt nor fear, 
Watch where the happy clouds are stealing 

Through fathomless depths of blue, 
Still in thine upward look revealing 

Confidence calm and true. 



Skyrie. 



53 






The Pine 

Written at the suggestion of M. M. 

STANDING on the wind-swept height 
Where the wheeling eagles light, 
Striving toward the tranquil sky, 
Clinging ever, lone on high, 
Sturdy pine-tree thou dost grow, 
Far above the vales below: 
Constant still through sun and storm, 
As the fleeting years transform 
All the weaker, trembling trees, 
Yielding to each passing breeze. 
Patient, thou, when daylight fades 
Through the dreamy woodland glades; 
All the varied seasons through, 
With each vagrant fairy hue. 
Winter's icy dazzling pall, 
Flame-transfigured dying Fall, 
Spring and Summer glad with glory 
Tell their changing, changeless story, 
While thou standest, steadfast, true, 
Chilled with sleet or drowsy dew. 
Thou dost love each transient cloud, 
Clinging round thee like a shroud, 
And thy singing soul rejoices 
In the faintly falling voices, 
Which the wild winds, whispering low, 
Breathe across the fields of snow. 

Eagle Rock. 

54 



A Landscape 



A WINTRY moon above the dusky stream 
Shone suddenly between dark clouds, and shore 
And wave were lighted by its vacant gleam; 

That in the instant all the mantle hoar 
Of ice and snow emerged from darkness. Far 

The tide and fringing banks appeared in light 
Of silver, spectral, pale and chill. A star 

Was freezing down the gloomy voiceless height 
Of Heaven. There seemed no note of passion there, 

Or any sign of any stir of life, 
~No breath of sadness nor of joy or prayer; 

But all the ghostly gleaming scene was rife 
With sense of solitude, and silent things 

Immutable and passionless, serene 
And calm. The trees alone like demon wings 

Instinct with life were shuddering, for between 
Their naked boughs, — while broken storm-clouds fled 

In panic at its onslaught, far on high — 
The frozen night-wind wailed in lonely dread, 

And cried its anguish to the heedless sky. 

" Belvoir" 






55 



Resurrection 

WHEN trees stand forth transfigured, fair 
In golden-vestured glory 
Of the Fall, and later bare 
Their boughs before the hoary 
Winter's ice and shrouding snow, 

And seem to some so sad 
Before their frozen sleep; I know 

No sadness but am glad, 
From consciousness that after death 

Comes life's perfection — pure 
And strong and true — borne on the breath 
Of Spring which shall endure. 

1 Skyrie." 



5G 






To the Hudson 

O MIGHTY daughter of the Western sphere, 
Majestic river, thou whose tranquil wave 
Swells onward through deep shade or sunlight 
clear, 
Like organ voices in cathedral nave: 
I thank thee for the message thou hast brought 
To me, of ever constant strength. When all 
The work I have achieved seems less than naught, 

And weariness has cast its gloomy pall 
Over my spirit, thou hast seemed to say: 
" Persist, recoil not from life's sacrifice, 
Renew the battle ; know nor pause, nor stay ; 

And through the conflict greater strength will rise 
In thee, that all thy haunting doubts shall seem 
But dying fancies of a faded dream." 

Belvoir." 



57 



1 Skyrk. 



Wild Rose 

ROSE in the woodland burning, 
O Springtime's fairest shrine! 
The lonely wind is yearning 
To steal, in the day's decline 
A kiss from thy petals stooping 

With evening's lustral freight, 
Sad in the twilight drooping 
With love that it cannot sate. 

Live! while the daylight lingers 

Through dreaming tides of June; 
Live! though no weary fingers 

Shall pluck thee and read thy rune 
Of the soul's supreme communion 

Through beauty's raptured love, 
And intimate reunion 

With the perfect soul above. 



58 



A Memory 



IN golden and scarlet pomp of Fall, 
Sabled with cedars the valley lay; 
With darkling storm-clouds over all, 

Save here and there where a gleaming ray 
From the sun, like a molten sword of fire, 

Slanting fell from the flaming sphere, 
Where the hidden light of the world's desire 

Is throned in the golden atmosphere. 
The river browned with a recent rain, 

With crested ridges of white-capped foam, 
Heedless of beauty in hill and plain, 

Eagerly swept to its ocean home. 
The azure mountains far away 

Majestic rose neath the dark gray sky, 
Pinnacled clear on the verge of day, 

Steadfast, immutable, calm and high; 
Till a silent cloud of silver snow 

Passed like a veil o'er the domes of blue, 
And the sun behind in a sudden glow 

Colored its edge with a fervid hue. 



'Ardmore." 



59 



Vesper 



ALONE with the hazy mountains; 
Alone with the sunset sky; 
Alone with the woodland fountains, 
When forest murmurs die ; 

High o'er the steadfast river, 

With voices of birds above, 
Singing to God the giver, 

Whose fairest gift is love; 

I watched the shadows stealing 
Like spies of the coming night, 

With ghostly fingers feeling 

The strength of the dying light. 

I knew the day was ended, 

But I saw the moon arise ; 
And stars their silver blended 

With fading evening skies. 



Ben Lancaster. 






Before Sunrise in the 
Mountains 

THE ghostly heralds of the day unborn 
Rise from the misty fastnesses of light, 
Stirring the deathlike calm of dusky night 
With faint forebodings of the infant morn, 
Which soon will all the hollow darkness smite 
With rays of brightness, till the shadows torn 
From dim secluded valleys, all forlorn, 
Will slowly fade before its glory bright. 

In this dread hour when joyless night is dying, 
The world is full of spirits weird and wild, 
Which flit fantastic on their twilight way — 
Intangible as phantom music crying 
Through whispering pines, until they see the mild 
Approach of light and vanish from the day. 

" Skyrie." 



61 



B 



Whip-poor-will 

IRD through the midnight calling 

In plaintive love-notes long; 

O'er the listening forest falling 

With the magical might of song: — 



O bird so sad, so lonely, 

Can thy call calm Nature move? 

Is thy life dependent only 
On requital of thy love? 

The moon sweeps on unheeding, 
Gray mist enshrouds the hills; 

Oh cease thy passionate pleading! 
My heart with thine anguish thrills. 

Nay, why shouldst thou cease confessing 
Thy love, though it hopeless be? 

Love's self is sufficient blessing 
Lone bird, for thee and me. 



Skyrie.' 



POEMS OF THOUGHT 



Faith 



THE solemn song of wind in waving trees, 
The blue light lingering long in mountain lakes, 
The setting sun's resplendent depths of gold, 
The fairy beauty of the fleeting brooks, 
Have all a message, clear yet mystical, 
For those who heed the whispers of the world, 
And listen for the story which the wind, 
The fading sunlight, and the lakes and brooks, 
Are ever telling through the changing year 
With purpose changeless as eternity. 

Like dogs that look into their master's eyes 
And strive there to divine the secret thing 
They cannot understand, which men call speech, 
Are human souls before the infinite: 
We hear the voice of Nature, but the sense 
Is lost. 

In longings impotent we spend 
The years, but ever hold a hope undimmed, 
That when our lives are touched by friendly death, 
We then shall know as we ourselves are known, 
And learn the meaning of the melodies 
Undying voices sing throughout the world, 
Which was beyond the reach of human thought, 
But which the soul when clear from earthly dross 
Will comprehend through God's eternity. 

" Skyrie." 



65 



Revival 

UNDER the peaceful midnight and the star- 
embroidered sky, 

Over the quiet spaces where cradled snow- 
flakes He, 
Far from the restless city with its passionate, godless 

din, 
From the cries and the wounds of sorrow, and the 

pitiless scourge of sin, 
I wander alone with Nature till I feel my life grow 

whole, 
Till I hear God's voice awaking once more in the 

depths of my soul. 
My heart grows great in worship with the well-re- 
membered sense 
Of sheer delight in living, and wonder-eyed suspense, 
For I see the stars interpret the runes of death and 

birth, 
And hear all Nature singing God's lullaby to earth. 

"Ardmore." 



The Call to Urania 

IMMORTAL Love! of life the lyric crown, 
Again I feel thee leave thine azure throne, 
And touch my soul that sought thee vainly down 

The gloom of empty days and weeks, alone, 
In patient expectation of thy love. 

Once didst thou dwell in me and make my soul 
Transcend its usual bounds: I soared above 

The strife of part with part, and knew the whole 
Glad harmony of Nature's happy aim, 

A perfect synthesis of riving law; — 
And lo ! a rapture through my spirit came 

Singing of all the blessed things I saw. 
Then thou didst show how beauty filled the world, 

In every flower that breathed beneath the sun; 
How Heaven's banner of the stars unfurled, 

Blazoned that life with love and God was one. 
Why hast thou left me lone to wander here 

Uncertain through the dusk of mortal ways, 
To learn the chill of doubt and night and fear, 

And miss thy presence through the lingering days? 
I need thee, Love ! Not vainly let me stand 

With hands outstretched in imploration dumb, 
I feel thee now within the borderland 

Of thought, come back, dear Love, to me, come, 
come! 

New York. 



67 



De Profundis clamavi ad 
Te, Domine 

THE odorless woods of winter lie 
Enwrapped in magical, mute sleep; 
And all the winds that blow across 
Them bear no breath of fragrance, till 
The spring shall breathe upon them; make 
Them rich with passionate perfume. 

An opal ofttimes slumbers, dull 
And lifeless, chill, and wan, nor shows 
The presence of the soul within, 
Until a nameless something wakes 
Its wondrous life to blaze in glowing 
Beauty for a little space. 

So too the souls of men seem dead. 

We move as in a trance, enslaved 

By custom, or the whelming tide 

Of common things and daily toil. 

No fragrant incense rises rich 

To God from our dead lives; no glow 

Of burning beauty like an aura 

Clings about us; poor we are 

As winter's empty scentless wind; 

Lifeless as opals, shade enthralled. 

Yet sometimes in the silent night, 
When musing o'er a poet's thought; 
Or moved by nature or the voice 
Of melody, we feel a dim 

68 



De Profundis clamavi ad Te, Domine 



Mysterious presence which awakes 
The dormant sentience of our souls, 
And lifts us for brief instants, till 
The rapture pass, from out the shadows 
Of our common ways, to know 
Divinity within ourselves; 
And feel beneath unstable life 
The fixed serenity of God. 



One day such vision came to me; 
But soon relentless fingers drew 
Again the veil of twilight o'er 
My spirit's sight; I felt old doubts 
Enshroud me, and I prayed aloud: 



" O God," I cried in pain, " why must I fall 

Once more from that far, wondrous height where all 

My soul enraptured, spellbound felt the light 

Of Thy near presence rend the veil of night 

And tremulous mortality, and saw 

With wondering eyes, Thy wonderful wise law 

At work omnipotent, in swerveless ways, 

Through all the common-place of common days. 

Why must I fall, O God, from that high sphere 

Wherein the glory of our life was clear, 

And move mid gloom and doubt and twilight shades 

In sateless longing, while Thy presence fades 

And passes viewless from my yearning sight 

To leave my soul lone-wandering through the night? " 



De Profundis clamavi ad Te, Domine 



I prayed, and through the silence came a voice 
With far-off accents calm and musical: 



" Countless suns and stars and moons 

Sing their changeless, joyous runes 

Through the sjmeric cycles long ; 

And the burden of their song 

Is ' Love transcendent, Love sublime ! ' 

All the wheeling spheres keep time 

With this harmony divine; 

Stealing like an anodyne 

On the hearts by sorrow tossed, 

On the lives through blindness lost. 

In thy erring soul I mark 

One divinely nurtured spark 

Of the Heavenly Law, and thou 

Must fan the embers fading now, 

For the fire is from above, 

Where the very God is love." 



New York. 



70 



God's Lighthouse 



'H^WAS only a gleam in the night, 
X Through the swirl of storm-swept spray, 

But it thrilled my soul with light 
More glad than the dawn of day;. 

For the beacon which glowed above 

The throbbing ocean's foam 
Was lit by the hand of love, 

And burned on the hearth of home. 



II 



My soul is a tiny boat 

On life's storm-troubled sea, 

But wheresoe'er it float 
Is the gleam of eternity ; 

For that wondrous glow in the dark 
Is the light of love on high, 

And it guides my doubt-tossed bark 
To its haven in the sky. 



New York. 



71 






The Temple of the Soul 

A Dream 



I 

A SILENT temple, dim, unseen, alone, 
Stood in a desert place; no anthem wound 
In wonder-woven magic webs of sound 
Throughout the cloistered colonnades; no tone 
Of mellow organ-voices e'er awoke 
The dreaming echoes from their silver sleep 
Among the many-columned aisles, or broke 
The solemn silentness where stillness deep 
Unbroken vigil kept; no antiphone 
From priest and choir arose to God's far throne. 



II 

One sound there was; the lonely desert wind 
Shrilled o'er the vault of shadow-veiled roof 
A dirge more drear than silence; for aloof 
From life it seemed, and sorrow undefined 
It sang in sadness. There the day and night 
Kept calm monotony in changeless reign; 
For ne'er could sunbeams laden with delight 
Expel the darkness from that ancient fane, 
Nor moon nor star in refluent glory find 
An entrance there, where twilight lay enshrined. 

72 



The Temple of the Soul: A Dream 



III 

And so o'er all this home of silence clung 

The darkness. Windows there were of stained glass, 

Purple and dusk, through which no light could pass 

Save pale and joyless rays, which died among 

The shadows, impotent. In gratitude 

No waxen flickering tapers burned; for here 

No worshiper had come, but solitude 

Had ruled supreme for many a dying year, 

Since golden-fretted censers, idly swung 

By vestured priests, their fragrant incense flung. 



IV 



None knew this solitary fane but I, 
Who wandering lonely, found it long ago, 
And loved it for its twilight calm and low 
Aerial-whispering friendless wind on high 
Above the rafters. Once therein I found 
A corridor which led I knew not where, 
And followed idly till the gloom profound 
Of buried night enwrapped me; and Despair 
Came on me, though I felt not she was nigh, 
And longings for the cloudless summer sky. 



A sudden glow of wonderful soft light 
Gleamed on a turning, down the dusky way 

73 



The Temple of the Soul: A Dream 

And following onward further from the day 
I stood entranced before this vision bright: 
A chapel lit with yellow mystic rays, 
Although no taper burned therein : O'er all 
The floor were semblances of flowers; ablaze 
The walls with pictures of the world — of Fall 
And Spring, of men and birds and trees ; the night 
Shone out above with moon and star bedight. 



VI 



I bowed in silent adoration there, 

Although I knew not what the shrine might be: 

For all the truth of all eternity 

Seemed brooding round me. All, so very fair 

Was Life! so beautiful the world, where gleamed 

That lustrous splendor ! Would not one more wise 

Than I have sought the perfect thing I dreamed 

To find in flowers and woods and summer skies 

Therein?: — The vision, far beyond compare, 

Of life's consummate beauty pure and rare? 



VII 

But beauty's self remained unheard, unseen ; 

Not manifest in any curved line 

Of perfect grace and symmetry divine; 

But dimly sensed in moonlight's woven sheen, 

Past far-off vistas, in uncertain gleams. 

I could not see her fill the awe-struck world, 

74 



The Temple of the Soul: A Dream 



And pulse in glory down unnumbered streams 
Of heavenly light, and dwell serene, impearled 
In singing flowers and sprays of budding green : — 
I saw, but knew not what these things might mean. 



VIII 

And still the truth was veiled, while all my thought 

Was borne by moaning winds along a soundless tide, 

With unseen shores where ruined hopes abide. 

And life was passing, while the goal I sought 

Seemed ever just beyond. I heard not those 

Who called in friendship's tone; I touched no hand; 

And through the silence loneliness arose 

Like mist that rises from a river's strand 

In cool September morns, till hills are caught 

Within its chilling shroud, of darkness wrought. 



IX 

In doubt I left the shrine; and looked along 
The temple's nave, where moveless shadows slept 
Unchanged; while far above the lonely breezes wept 
Among the towers, still their same low song. 
Then new-born hope impelled me toward the life 
Of men: There strife of part with part I saw, 
And glints of beauty gleaming through the strife ; 
But cosmic interchange of law with law 
Was still unseen ; and all the hurried throng 
With tear-stained faces bowed to ruling wrong. 

75 



The Temple of the Soul: A Dream 



X 

They would not seek the beauty I had sought, 

They left me on my starry quest alone; 

While ebbed my partial sight of truth; till flown 

Was all my vision — all my winged thought, 

Or chained to earth that never more it rose 

Battling to scale the cloud-hid peaks of life. 

But once in youthful courage Spring arose 

To wage her old hereditary strife 

With winter : Through her flowers, to me she brought 

A re-created vision, beauty fraught. 



XI 

I took again the long, untrodden way, 

And followed upward from the roar of strife, 

From dead ideals and dying hopes, and life 

Of men who struggle blindly, fight and pray 

For unrealities and worthless goals, 

Each one alone in friendless haste, while youth 

Flees madly on toward age; nor lift their souls 

To seek the deep, serene, eternal truth 

Which thrills the world with God, as night and day 

In refluent beauty hold alternate sway. 



XII 

I found my temple standing, still apart 
From life's unresting turbulence. But ah, 

76 



The Temple of the Soul: A Dream 



How changed! Enshrined above the altar far 

Adown the nave a maiden sat. No art 

Could paint in cadenced words, or seraph dream 

Of dsedal-chorded harmony, or light 

Of long undying colors, how supreme 

Her beauty shone. The silent gloom of night 

Had vanished silently, compelled to part, 

For gladness ruled the fane and ruled my heart. 



XIII 

Sunlight was waving through her golden hair, 

And smiling from unfathomed eyes, whose hue 

Was like the fringed gentian's heavenly blue; 

Her face was as the sunlight — very fair. 

Although in mortal form, she seemed more pure 

And true than aught I knew on earth : — 

A saint of some transcendent dream, — secure 

In half divinity, from any birth 

Of human doubt. In her was I aware 

Of Beauty's incarnation, past compare. 



XIY 

With sudden hope I gazed, and saw my dream 
In her complete: All Beauty, Good and Truth 
Enshrined in her, with that to which my youth 
Had clung, nor found but in the fitful gleam 
Of aspiration. Many flowers I brought 
To her, and laid them near her feet, while love 

77 






The Temple of the Soul: A Dream 



With adoration blended. Once I thought 
She turned to me and smiled — and all above 
Me and around me dimmed; as love supreme 
Flowed through me flaming, in a deathless stream. 



XV 

In love's sweet ritual I sang ; while woke 

My life to nobler impulse, thought more sure. 

For mighty Love can bid the soul endure 

In strength; and lift it from itself, and yoke 

Its deedless dreams of good to firm resolve 

And high attainment ; bring it into tune 

With God, and raise it as the years revolve 

To richer life — as April grows to June. 

And once she fixed her eyes on mine, and broke 

My worship with her dreamed-of voice and spoke 



XVI 

" Yea, Love, I trust thee. I have proved thee true." 

My heart was faint with pain of ecstasy; 

I thought it still a dream, too fair to be 

The truth, but lo! she stood with love's sweet dew 

Within her eyes, and fragrance round her hair: 

I saw in her the end of all my quest. 

She took me by the hand, and led me where 

The sun was slanting down a lucent West, 

And showed me how the sky was far more blue 

Than erst I dreamed ; how fair the flowers grew ; 

78 



The Temple of the Soul: A Dream 



XVII 

How all the beauty I had longed to prove 
In life, was thrilling through each human heart. 
She showed my fault to seek from life apart 
That life's perfection; showed how subtly move 
Through all the world the laws I failed to find. 
She led me then within the lustrous shrine, 
Where I no more bewildered, doubting, blind, 
Saw visioned Beauty's self, undimmed, divine; — 
And bore to see, for there I rose above 
Myself, and knew Life consummate in Love. 

" Skyrie." 



79 






Omnipresence 



THY fields are fairer than the fairest face, 
Arid full of messages for those who know 
To read their hidden meaning, for they show 
Thy matchless love in every lowliest place. 

Thy stars shine brighter than the silver snow; 
They fill unfathomed depths of soundless space 
With signs of Thee, whose love would fain efface 
The searing characters of human woe. 

Thy love is plain to see in field and star — 
Thy purpose and the harmony of life — 
And in Thy ways with men I see Thee too, 
Guiding us still, though we may wander far 
From Thine intent, and working out through strife 
Eternal beauty, old but ever new. 

' Skyrie." 



80 



"Une Croix! Et l'Oubli, la 
Nuit et le Silence!" 



FOREDOOMED to fail and die! yea God, so 
young 
To lie inert beneath the fragrant flowers, 
To leave my joyous-hearted songs unsung, 
To find the number of my happy hours. 



Foredoomed, so young, to fail and pass and die; 

And what is death that I should watch with dread 
His stealthy shadow creeping slowly nigh? 

Are there nor joys nor flowers among the dead? 

Death is a darkling mystery none may solve ; 

A sudden end of all our joy and strife, 
A sudden summons as the years revolve, 

To dull oblivion or perfected life. 

I fain would live my three-score years and ten 
Warmed by the sunlight I have found so fair ; 

I fain would dream some glad years more, and then 
Relinquish life, nor quite so greatly care. 

Yet death may prove more gentle, sweet and kind 
Than life, and if, ere all my songs be sped 

He come, perchance surprised I then shall find 
Undreamed of Springtime flowers among the dead. 

! ' Skyrie " 

81 



Swan Songs 



WHEN the sun's last slanting rays 
Set the rapturous clouds ablaze 

All in gold, 
Then we see with clearer vision 
Far into the fields Elysian; 

And we hold 
For some fleeting instants, briefly, 
Knowledge of the things which chiefly 

In our life 
Are beyond the reach of thought 
Though they eagerly are sought 

Through the strife. 



II 



With the dying daylight's gleaming 
Glides a lustrous radiance streaming 

From above; 
And we look into the spaces 
Of the joyous far-off places 

Whence the love 
Of God, like summer sunbeams glowing, 
Or majestic rivers flowing 

To the sea, 
Comes without one breath of sadness, 
Bright with messages of gladness, 

Calm and free. 



Swan Songs 






III 

So some mortals sinking, dying 
When their earthly life is flying 

Fast away, 
Pass, upheld by God securely, 
Down the gloomy path which surely 

Leads to day. 
Then we feel how strong and holy, 
Filled with kindness to the lowly, 

Were their lives; 
And we see their knowledge strengthen, 
For, while death's deep shadows lengthen, 

Light revives. 



IV 



When in peace they lie at last, 
And pain and trouble all are past 

From their eyes; 
'Mid the mournful, funeral dirges, 
Triumph wakes and upward surges 

Toward the skies ; 
For they lose all earth-born sadness, 
As their spirits rise in gladness 

From us here: 
And we seem to hear them singing 
Words with which the skies are ringing : 

" God is near." 



1 Skyrie." 



83 



The Return to the Silent 
Land 

A Fragment 

HIGH on a mountain where the rugged trees 
Clung sturdily, I heard the crooning breeze 
Whisper its silver-sounding slumber song 
Among the cliffs, and o'er the valleys long, 
Where drowsy boughs were nodding dreamy -wise. 
I saw far up the deep, eternal skies 
The summer clouds which slumbrous steal athwart 
The sun, till ruffian clamorous winds distort 
Their shape, and make them fade and pass like men. 
The vision thrilled me : for my soul till then 
Had been through weary stretch of darkening days, 
Bound in the thralling bondage of the ways 
Of cities, where the clanging notes of strife 
Discordant voice our fever-fitful life. 
Into my soul the glowing beauty crept 
And waked my senses which so long had slept, 
Callous and cold, as winter still and hoary, — 
Till now the fair transcendent summer's glory, 
Thrilled through my being like a seraph's song, 
And tuned me to such music as the throng 
Of choiring angels long have chanted there 
Where perfect harmony is perfect prayer. 
And now my spirit as a heavenly lyre, 
Waked by God's fingers to a sudden fire, 
Breathed tremulous, through every eager string 
The very melodies the seraphs sing. 
I felt the love of God around me flow, 
Changeless, effulgent, through me burn and glow, 

84 



The Return to the Silent Land 



And seemed to rise above the things of earth, 

Pure as the moon-beams at the dawn's pale birth. 

The scrolls of all the ages were unrolled 

Before my spirit, — mystic fold on fold; 

The gates of life and death were opened wide, 

That I might see the surging human tide 

Immutable, which as it rose and fell, 

Instinct with hopes of Heaven and fears of Hell, 

Cast ever on the shores of love or hate 

Some human wreckage from all-wrecking Fate. 

Yet sadness there was none, for on my thought 

Of all the ways that human souls are bought 

For gold or dross or shadows of a dream, 

There burst like moonlight on a darkling stream, 

The glow of love, abrood with sheltering wings 

Caressingly, upon the world which sings 

Its hymn of wondrous rapture, while the spheres, 

Through asons of the numberless long years, 

Keep time and tune in magical mute song. 

"Ardmore." 



So 



Dedication 

I DARE not hope that thou wilt value these 
My boyhood's dreams, for aught of beauty 
found 
Herein, and poesy. They cannot please 

Or touch thee of themselves ; but as the sound 
Of music sweeter is, when waked by hands 
Beloved; or as a child's low song above 
The stronger voices of the world, withstands 

Forgetful years, and floods the soul with love 
For him who sang the song: — so I am sure 

Because of him who dreamed these early dreams, 
They shall be dear to thee, and still endure. 

Arid though no wealth of thought or beauty 
gleams 
Through them, yet in thy heart I bid them live, 
Accepted as the best I have to give. 

New York. 



87 



WAR 28 1905 



